Letters to Rachel
by stuartandjeremy
Summary: Rachel,    You know how I used to write letters to Max that I never sent and how they're now mountains of paper in a cardboard box in my attic? Yeah, well, it looks like that box's lonely days will be over soon, 'cause now you're gone too and what the fuck else can I do but write more letters I never plan on actually sending?
1. July 6, 2013

July 6 , 2013

Rachel,

You know how I used to write letters to Max that I never sent and how they're now mountains of paper in a cardboard box in my attic? Yeah, well, it looks like that box's lonely days will be over soon, 'cause now you're gone too and what the fuck else can I do but write more letters I never plan on actually sending?

Obviously the situation is a bit different, because more than anything I would rather have you appear outside my door with an awesome plan for a fun-filled day. Anything beats bouncing words back to myself on a blank piece of paper, but beggars can't be choosers and shit, and it's not like I haven't been playing the part of the beggar my whole life. Nothing new there.

Seriously, Rachel, where are you? I can only pretend everything is fine for so long.

Chloe, the letter hoarder


	2. July 8, 2013

July 8, 2013

Rachel,

I don't know what you're up to now, but just in case you wanted an update on my fucked up home life, here it is. David's still a dick, and mom is still in denial of that fact. Mustache found my weed stash again 'cause he can't read the sign on my door that specifically tells him to stay the fuck away from my room. Maybe the war fucked his brain up more than I thought it did.

And since I can't seem to catch a break even in my own goddamn house, I went to our shack in the junkyard instead. Sometimes just before I walk in my heart starts racing thinking maybe this is the day. This is the day I'll find a note from you explaining everything, or the day I'll see the darts in a different position, or some kind of message on the wall in your handwriting, and just like that I'll know you were here and I can finally stop wondering if you really decided to leave me like Max did.

What a pathetic, loser thing to say. Is that it? Did you leave because I'm so pathetic?

Chloe, the twice ghosted


	3. July 10, 2013

July 10, 2013

Rachel,

When I woke up this morning I couldn't find dad's jacket hanging next to my door where it usually is. I went to ask mom about it and she gave me the same lecture about moving on that she's been drilling me with since … I don't even know how long. I need to find some other place I can keep my things where mom and stepfuck can't find them.

It's getting harder and harder every day to convince myself that bringing a lighter to his face and setting his mustache on fire won't fix my fucked up life. My entire existence is a gigantic space where people come to pat me in the back and disappear as soon as I turn around. "The world is not out to get you," my mom says. If that were true, dad would still be here. But on the other hand, would I still have met you?

What does it matter? You'll end up leaving anyway.

Chloe, the intimacy repellent


	4. July 11, 2013

July 11, 2013

Rachel,

PissHead may have made it big but they don't seem to have forgotten their roots. I'm talking about Skip Matthews, the guy who used to be the security guard at Blackhell before stepdick took over. They came back and did a show in front of Pan Estates' office as a huge 'fuck you' to all the shitty things that have happened to Arcadia Bay since the Prescotts turned up. I have no soft spot when it comes to this shithole town but bands that poke at rich fascists who think they can get away with anything are always awesome to watch. I think you would like the new direction PissHead is taking.

I tried to just let go and rock out to the music, but all the while I was keeping my eyes out for you. As if a missing girl would just pop up at a concert like nobody's business. It's become a force of habit now. Wherever I go I secretly hope I'll spot you in the crowd with your feather earring or your red flannel or your tattered jeans. I should probably stop, but it's not that easy. You're everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Where do people go when they don't want to be found? Hell if I know.

Chloe, the sorry thrasher


	5. July 12, 2013

July 12, 2013

Rachel,

The truck broke down again. It's the third time this month. With no future plans of going to L.A., it's hard to work up the energy to fix it again. Or maybe I can tell myself that you have been in L.A. this whole time and so if I can get the truck up and running again I can drive down there and look for you. Would that work?

Who am I kidding? L.A. would be too obvious. But I don't really know where else to start. And Santa Monica is huge. It's stupid to think I'd casually run into you without even trying. Still, how awesome would that be?

Anyway, I should go to bed. I gotta help mom sort through the junk in the attic tomorrow morning.

Chloe, the forever delusional


	6. July 14, 2013

July 14, 2013

Rachel,

I wonder just how much more they can take before they kick my ungrateful ass out of this house for good.

I don't have a door anymore. I slammed the damn thing too hard or some shit last night and the fucking thing just came off its hinges. And stepführer managed to convince mom not to let me have a new one until I "get my shit together." Normally I would've told him to go fuck himself but for some reason I just didn't have the energy. Maybe I'm getting old. Or maybe I just don't see the point in caring much about anything anymore these days.

Sorry if I haven't been very regular in my writing. I've been smoking like there's no tomorrow recently and I'm always tired and out of breath. I just want the world to stop. I'm so tired of everything.

So yeah. Life sucks and you're still nowhere to be found. What's new?

Chloe, the out of sass


	7. July 16, 2013

July 16, 2013

Rachel,

I liked the person that I was when I was with you. You always knew the right words to say. It never felt like you were judging me. You're such a rockstar, it made me nervous to be seen hanging around with you. It never made sense to me why you would want people to associate the queen of Blackwell with Arcadia Bay's resident failure, but I never felt like the dropout reject that I really am when I'm with you. It's almost like you were proud of me, of us.

Now that you've been gone for this long, I can't remember the last time I actually liked myself. What does that say about me? I always need someone to latch on to. You once told me you felt like you had no personality 'cause you were always acting like the person that everyone else wanted you to be. That was ages ago, but thinking back to it, I was never the right person to answer that kind of question. If I can't be left with no company for even a little while without losing my mind, doesn't that just make me an impostor?

Chloe, the bark and not the bite


	8. July 18, 2013

July 18, 2013

Rachel,

I've been having dreams of dad again recently. And here I thought they'd finally stopped for good. The twisted thing is that I'm kind of glad, even though they are all nightmares and I have to watch him die in front of my eyes again and again. At least this means I'm not forgetting him, right? I know it's probably unhealthy, but my concern for any type of health went out the window a long, long time ago.

He talked to me in my dream last night. He asked me why I was crying. I said I didn't know, and he just laughed. And the sound of his voice was so familiar and comforting that it made me wake up from my sleep half expecting him to still be alive. You'd think after five years I'd get used to him being gone. Looks like time is not taking it easy on me. As if it ever did.

Chloe, the dreamer


	9. July 19, 2013

July 19, 2013

Rachel,

I'm fucking furious right now. I tried letting it out at the junkyard just smashing beer bottles into pieces. It was so intense I cut my hand and it wouldn't stop bleeding for more than ten minutes. Normally all it would take me to calm down was to see you waiting for me in the shack writing our travel plans journal or reading a book or just looking out the window or at the mirror or at me. But you're not here. You're not anywhere and I'm so fucking mad at everything and fuck, what I wouldn't give to stop feeling this way.

Some asshole gave me a call this morning, saying he saw someone who fit your description. I drove down to where he was right away. It wasn't you, of course. I flipped him the bird for making me think for a second that I've finally found you. Then he socked me in the face.

Tl;dr: You're still gone and I still don't know what to do with myself.

Chloe, the slayer of bottles


	10. July 20, 2013

July 20, 2013

Rachel,

I fucking did it! I got a job doing something I actually enjoy! You should've seen me. I wasn't even trying not to look too eager anymore. After more than three months of feeling empty, this is the first time that I've felt … well, less empty. Which isn't much., but it's something. At least I can start feeling like less of a failure at everything in life than I really am. Maybe lying to yourself beats seeing the truth sometimes. You gotta do whatever it takes to survive, right? Anything that kills the pain …

I know all of this business of distracting myself can't be good in the long run and I'm gonna have to face the fact that you're not coming back

Fuck it. I'm sorry I even suggested that. I'll wait for you, Rachel. I'll wait no matter how long.

Chloe, the mechanic


	11. July 21, 2013

July 21, 2013

Rachel,

I slept in your flannel last night and when I saw my own sleeve when I woke up it almost felt like things were normal again. Like I hadn't been waking up alone for the past three months or putting up missing person posters all around Arcadia Bay with your face all over them. And then reality settled itself back into my messed up life.

You know how certain smells just take you back? I didn't think the day would come, but I've gotten used to the smell of your shirt. I try inhaling different kinds of shit just to give my nose a chance to recognize the scent of your shirt again, but it doesn't smell like anything anymore, like parts of my memory of you are fading already. Like I'm slowly forgetting everything. First dad, and now you.

Chloe, the not-so-good search dog


	12. July 22, 2013

July 22, 2013

Rachel,

Today is your birthday. I don't know whether to be pissed that you're still missing or glad 'cause you weren't here to see my ugly crying face this morning. Waking up was hard. Getting up was twice as hard.

I made you something. If you wanna know what it is, you're gonna have to come find out for yourself. No cheating. You have no idea how much self-control it took me not to slip up and tell you about it.

What the fuck am I doing, Rachel? You turn 19 today, and you're not even here. You should be right here next to me. Where the fuck are you?

Chloe, the after-party cleaner upper


	13. July 23, 2013

July 23, 2013

Rachel,

It's an ankle bracelet. I made you an ankle bracelet. I'm wearing it now but it's a bit tight on me. I think it would've fit you perfectly. Except, that's right, I don't even know where you are anymore. Actually, I made two. They look pretty much like the matching bracelets you made for us, but I made it so the ankle bracelets spelled out our names. I wear them both now on my left ankle.

I really regret not paying more attention to you when you used to try and get me to learn how to tie bracelets. It took me maybe a whole week to get them just right. You would be proud of me, you really would. Sorry for spoiling your present. I couldn't keep it to myself for much longer. I miss you, Rachel.

Chloe, the overdressed


	14. July 24, 2013

July 24, 2013

Rachel,

I made another mix CD for you. I named it "Rachel Songs 2.0" because I haven't been very high on creativity recently. Apparently the bills in my pocket aren't the only thing that's running low here. I listened to the first one I made you when I hitched a train earlier yesterday, on a walkman. And I used to think Max was an old school hippie. Anyway, when I compared the songs from the first and the second CD, I realized the second one sounds a lot more depressing. Sorry about that.

Rachel and Max. Max and Rachel. Where the hell could either of you be? Sometimes when I'm too drunk I start seeing things in my head like the two of you meeting somewhere in Seattle, getting high and hanging out and talking shit about me. And then agreeing never to have anything to do with me ever again.

Chloe, a closet hippie


	15. July 25, 2013

July 25, 2013

Rachel,

You remember Steph Gingrich? You used to be in drama club together. She was totally into you. But Steph is an awesome human being, so those first few days we started hanging out she actually asked me if there was something going on between the two of us. If I'd told her you were single instead of answering with a vague "It's confusing," I think she would've totally asked you out. And I think you would've taken up her offer in a heartbeat. I probably would too if I were you. Steph Chloe any day of the week.

She came back to visit Arcadia Bay and asked if I wanted to meet up. So we ate at the diner and talked about things. She's moving in with her girlfriend in Portland in two days. She knows about you being missing. I wanted to talk to her more about you but she didn't seem to be too into it so I decided to drop it. She sounded so concerned, even gave me a really long hug at the end of the day and told me to talk to her if I ever need to. Steph is cool, but sometimes I don't know how to start a conversation with people. I mean, what am I supposed to say? "I don't think Rachel is ever coming back but I can't help but lie to myself and count the days anyway?" Yeah, no.

Chloe, the social failure


	16. July 26, 2013

July 26, 2013

Rachel,

What happened to your promise about Santa Monica? What happened to meeting at the shack every Saturday night? I thought you said you would never leave. Was it something I did? Something I didn't do, or didn't say?

I've been saving up for the past two weeks. I only used up one pack of cigarette for two whole weeks. I skipped my weekly order with Frank he actually sent me a text asking if something was wrong with me. I've put us a hundred solid bucks closer to L.A.

I'll find a way to scrape up more money. I'll figure something out. When you come back we can make our break. I promise, Rachel. I'll get us out of here for good.

Chloe, the persistent idiot


	17. August 2, 2013

August 2, 2013

Rachel,

Sometimes it's easier to just pretend everyone is dead. Maybe everyone who is gone didn't actually choose to leave. Maybe they're just dead for some reason. My dad, then Max, and now you too. It's harsh, I know. Sometimes I just wanna shut down my brain and stop thinking. You're gone, like everybody else. Time to move the fuck on, like mom always says. How many times do I have to fail until I get this right?

With each passing day I get more and more anxious that I'll never actually find you, like one day I'll just have to accept the reality and pretend you never left a mark in my life. I never went to that Firewalk concert at the old mill. Nobody ever made me get into a spandex suit by my own will and perform on stage in front of all the people of Blackhell that I hated most. There were never any plans to ditch Arcadia Bay, the birthplace of all my worst memories.

Mostly I'm torn between trying to forget everything that ever happened and remembering every little detail of the last three years that my life didn't completely suck.

Chloe, the dazed and confused


	18. August 8, 2013

August 8, 2013

Rachel,

Am I too eager to please? Am I making a doormat out of myself? What sucks is that I feel like I already know the answer to that question, but I don't want it to be true. I can't remember the last time I didn't feel so lost when there's no one. No, actually, it might be the time before my dad died. When Max was still here and I joined science fairs and had good grades and a normal life and didn't do drugs or put up missing person posters around the town that eventually fucked me over.

What does any of it matter? I'll be gone too one day, like you and all the dickheads of this shithole town. I just wish I could spend the interim not missing you like hell every second of every day.

Chloe, the welcome mat


	19. August 20, 2013

August 20, 2013

Rachel,

The worst part is when I can think, 'cause that's when I start wondering what went wrong, and whether you're gone or missing, or try to remember every word that we have ever said in each other's presence. I used to be able to guess pretty damn well how you would react to things I say. Now I can't remember where exactly on my shoulder your head rests.

I screwed up again. I'm a fucking screwup. Big news, right? What do you expect from Chloe Price? Leave her with a hundred bucks and she'll keep it safe from her hands? Like she could stand to listen to the sounds in her own head for more than a minute? I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry. I don't know what to do anymore. I'm so lost, Rachel. Please come back. I need you.

Chloe


	20. August 26, 2013

August 26, 2013

Rachel,

I'm sick of the radio silence. I'm sick of talking to myself. Where are you? Why did you leave?

Did I ever mean anything to you? Do I not deserve even as much as a goodbye? Maybe an explanation? Anything at all?

Chloe


	21. August 31, 2013

August 31, 2013

Rachel,

I wonder how much longer I can keep up with writing these letters to you. It worked to distract me for a while, but now I just miss you more. Should I stop this? But if I do, what else am I supposed to waste my time with until I find you? How will I remember you? How do you expect me to remember everything without you by my side?

Every day seems to last longer and longer. It can't be possible to sink any lower than I already have. I'm scared I'll forget you. I don't wanna forget you too. I don't wanna forget you or dad. I just want you back. Please come back, Rachel.

Chloe


End file.
